


The Weight of Your Words

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [31]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rescue Missions, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for 5 Senses prompt: <i>Any, any, synesthesia.</i></p><p>In which an Ancient device gives words actual weight, and it's the only thing that can save John's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Your Words

Words were weapons, used to damage or destroy. Rodney’s parents had wielded them against each other, against their own children, and they’d been just as devastating as slaps or punches would’ve been.

So Rodney learned to use words defensively. 

He deflected with rapid-fire rants and kept people at arm’s length with socially awkward comments. He came across as crass, obnoxious, thoughtless, rude, but he didn’t care as long as people let him do his work in peace. 

Words had power, Rodney had always known that. But when he woke up in the infirmary after an unexpected run-in with a small piece of harmless-looking Ancient tech, he found that words had taken on an unexpected weight.

“Back with us, Rodney?” Sheppard asked. He was sitting in a chair with his legs propped up on the bed, hand-held video game in his lap.

 _Rodney_ was a warm weight across his shoulders, like someone covering him with a blanket.

He dismissed it. Until it happened again. And again. 

It wasn’t just his name, either. There were a whole host of words that carried a physical response, and not all of them good. 

_Wraith_ gave him chest pains, so bad that the first time it happened he thought he was having a heart attack.

 _No, don’t_ and _can’t_ set up a frustrating itch between his shoulder blades.

Carson called it a form of auditory-tactile synesthesia. Not every word came with a physical sensation, for which Rodney was extremely grateful, and but the bad ones were really bad.

 _Lemon_ made him break out in hives. 

_Sheppard_ brought instant, almost painful, arousal. (Rodney didn’t tell anyone about that one, though the way his face flushed hot every time was probably a dead giveaway.)

By the end of the first day he’d locked himself in his lab and wouldn’t come out. Not for Miko, whose _please_ had Rodney breaking out in gooseflesh, or Radek, whose _ty jseš vůl_ made Rodney’s hands clench into fists.

He threw himself into his work, trying to find a way to reverse whatever the artefact had done to him. It didn’t look like much more than a paperweight, round and shiny, the surface unmarred, and Rodney had no idea what purpose it could’ve served. Sometimes it felt like the Ancients (stabbing pain in his side) had way too much time on their hands.

Of course, Sheppard wasn’t so easily put off. Atlantis let him bypass any block Rodney put on a door, which was annoying in the extreme, but since he came bearing food Rodney chose to overlook the incursion into his personal space.

“Chocolate pudding,” Sheppard said, watching closely.

Rodney cursed the fact his physical reactions were beyond his ability to control, or even predict. _Chocolate_ had his eyes rolling back in his head. Sheppard chuckled, and made himself comfortable on the nearest flat surface, legs swinging.

Rodney braced himself, waiting for Sheppard to say something, but he seemed content to just sit there in silence. So Rodney wolfed down the pudding and got back to work. He’d run every kind of scan at his disposal on the orb, had taken readings and measurements and even weighed the damn thing. All of which told him precisely nothing.

After a while he looked over at the very quiet Colonel, who was leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Shep…Colonel. Can you get any kind of information from this thing? Without turning it on, obviously.”

 _Information_ gave him the same feeling of fullness that eating dinner did.

“Sure.” Sheppard slid off the table with the usual boneless grace, but Rodney was able to control his reaction to that at least. He had plenty of practice. “There’s a low-level buzz, but I’m not getting much more than that. Sorry.”

 _Sorry_ brought unexpected tears to his eyes. Sheppard tactfully didn’t say anything.

*o*o*o*

Things only got worse after that. More and more words began to affect Rodney, most of them in little ways like skin irritations or muscle spasms. He was seriously considering exiling himself to an un-used part of the city, but Pegasus intervened in the usual way.

He hadn’t been going offworld – he was a liability until the synesthesia thing worked itself out – but Sheppard had taken a group of botanists out to a supposedly safe location to collect samples. Should’ve been a cake walk.

A jumbled call for help was sent two hours before their check-in time, something about a storm and a flash flood. The words battered at Rodney, but he insisted on joining Major Lorne’s rescue team.

It hadn’t been Sheppard’s voice calling for help.

Lorne was tight-lipped as he geared up, sparing a curt nod for Rodney as he slipped on his tac vest and strapped on the LSD. Rodney didn’t know him very well – Lorne hadn’t been part of the original expedition – but he was a good guy to have in an emergency. Sheppard’s team had needed his assistance a time or two in the past. They weren’t friends or anything like that, but Rodney trusted him.

He wished Ronon and Teyla hadn’t taken advantage of the team’s downtime to go to New Athos. It didn’t feel right, not having his team at his back, particularly under the circumstances.

Radek found a pair of noise-cancelling headphones for Rodney to use. He wouldn’t be able to wear them the whole time, but they’d help cut down on the synesthesia effects for as long as he could keep them on.

When they took the ‘jumper through the Gate and arrived on P4Y-176, it wasn’t difficult to ascertain what had happened. The geography was naturally terraced, with lots of bluffs and ravines. For whatever reason, the floodwaters had been diverted from their normal route – log jam, maybe – and had instead flowed down on the spot where Sheppard’s ‘jumper had been parked, pushing it slightly over the sharp incline of the next ravine. The area was marked by a wide swath of mud, tree limbs, and other debris, and several large pools of brackish water.

Rodney was sitting kitty-corner to Lorne’s position in the pilot’s seat, not close enough to read his lips, but Rodney could tell when Lorne made contact with at least one of the botanists. There was a subtle change in his position, less tension in his shoulders. Rodney could only conclude that meant Parrish was still alive and well. 

Rodney pulled out the LSD, pinpointing the location of the four – Sheppard was alive, thank God for that – life signs. He showed it to Lorne, who landed the ‘jumper nearby in an area that had been untouched by the flood.

It was strange, being in a bubble of quiet when there was so much activity going on around him. Dr. Huang was the only one of the botanists not injured. Parrish had a very dubious-looking splint on his broken leg, and Katie Brown was suffering from a concussion, if the dazed stare and bloody head wound were any indication. They were all covered in a slimy mud mixture.

Sgt. Coughlin, who had experience as a field medic, immediately started seeing to the injuries. Huang gestured to the other ‘jumper, which was very slowly making its way over the edge of the ravine. Lorne mouthed _Sheppard_ to Rodney, who didn’t wait for any further information.

Any hopes Rodney had that Sheppard was merely trapped inside the ‘jumper were dashed as soon as he inched towards the edge of the drop-off and looked down.

Sheppard was pinned between the muddy ravine wall and the ‘jumper, precariously balanced on a narrow rocky outcropping. He was so covered in mud that he almost blended in seamlessly with his surroundings. Every time the ‘jumper shifted, incrementally though it was, Sheppard was pushed farther back into the mud. He’d be suffocated before the damn thing could crush him to death.

Rodney tore the headphones off, sound flooding back in a loud wave. He could hear running water and the squish of feet in the mud, and the murmur of Coughlin talking to the botanists.

“John!” The name made him shudder.

“Hey, Rodney.” The comfort of his name was horribly out of place, particularly when it was said in shallow, panting breaths. “Good timing.”

Lorne came up beside him, taking his own read of the situation. “We’ll have you out of there in a jiffy, Colonel,” he called down to Sheppard.

Rodney scratched absently at an itchy patch on his arm. “The only way we can do this is by using the grappling hook,” he said. It was the most he’d spoken in days and it felt like a whole army of ants was crawling under his skin.

“We’ll have to be fast,” Lorne replied.

“I’m going down there.”

To his credit, the Major didn’t waste any time trying to talk Rodney out of it. He just nodded sharply and went in search of the climbing gear that was stowed in the back of the ‘jumper. There were several large trees nearby that Rodney could tie himself off on. It would’ve been a task better suited to Ronon, but in his absence Rodney would have to step up. He couldn’t just leave Sheppard down there by himself. Alone.

“Will you be able to hold on to him?” Lorne asked as he helped secure Rodney in the climbing harness. “Pulling the ‘jumper up is going to displace a lot of mud.”

Rodney felt a little like someone with Tourette’s, the way almost every word was making him twitch and flail. His stomach was already roiling from the danger Sheppard was in.

“I can do it.”

“Take this.” Lorne handed him an earpiece. “I told Reed to keep everyone radio silent. I’ll let you know when I’m ready, but I won’t move until you give me the go-ahead.”

Rodney nodded, and began his descent. Lt. Reed was standing by to keep an eye on the proceedings, and lend support if needed, while Lorne prepped the ‘jumper. Going down was easy – it was a slip and slide situation – but going back up was going to be a pain in the ass. Someone would have to pull them, because there was little in the way of toe holds.

Sheppard looked worse up close. He was clearly in pain. The way he was pinned, the ‘jumper was pressing on his left arm and part of his chest. The fact that the damn thing hadn’t gone right down the ravine and taken Sheppard with it was a miracle.

“Hey,” he panted. 

“Stop trying to talk, you idiot.”

“Sorry.”

Rodney blinked away the involuntary tears that accompanied that word, and held his canteen so Sheppard could get a little fresh water. “Is anything broken?” he asked without thinking.

 _Broken_ sent a shooting pain through his leg. Rodney clenched his jaw and ignored it.

“Arm. Maybe collarbone.”

Hopefully not any of his ribs. All it would take was him moving wrong, or the ‘jumper pressing more firmly, and he could end up with a punctured lung.

“Rodney.”

“Sheppard, don’t –” Rodney forgot himself. There was no hiding the truth now, not with the close quarters they were sharing on that ledge. Sheppard just grinned at him, his teeth startlingly white against the dark, slimy mud mask he was wearing.

“My name. Turns you. On.”

“What did I say about talking? Save your breath.”

“Side effect?” Sheppard asked.

That would be a great out: blame it on involuntary reactions wrought by vengeful Ancient tech. But Rodney couldn’t do it. Couldn’t lie to the man who was his best friend, his teammate, the object of his secret affections. Especially not when Sheppard was hurting, and probably scared even though he wouldn’t say so. Besides, Rodney knew that many of the reactions he had were specific to him, to his own fears and desires. Why else would _lemon_ make him break out in hives?

“No,” he said.

“Cool,” Sheppard replied. The ‘jumper shifted a little and he winced, closing his eyes.

_McKay, I’m in place. Lowering the grappling hook._

Rodney looked up. Lorne’s ‘jumper was hovering directly over them, the grapple slowly lowering from a hatch on the underside of the ship. Rodney grabbed hold of Sheppard’s free hand, clutching it as tightly at the mud would allow. When the grapple landed on the ‘jumper with a clang, Sheppard let out a pained noise and his hand clamped around Rodney’s like a vice.

_Ready when you are._

Rodney took a steadying breath. “Okay. You still with me, Colonel?”

Sheppard nodded, his eyes still closed.

“When Lorne pulls the ‘jumper up, I’m going to have to grab you. It’s going to hurt.” He didn’t bother telling Sheppard that he had to try and stay conscious, that he had to hold on to Rodney the best he could, or else he’d fall. Rodney couldn’t do it all on his own. He wasn’t strong enough.

“Rodney,” Sheppard whispered.

It was an odd mix, the warm comfort with the fear-clenched stomach.

“Love you.”

Rodney jerked violently, almost swinging himself out from the ledge. _Love_. It was a conglomeration of every feeling he’d had since the synesthesia had started. Comfort, pain, fear, joy, bliss, agony. And underneath it all, a strength he’d never felt before. It ran through his bones, turning them to steel.

“Now, Major!” he bellowed.

The ‘jumper was pulled away, releasing a gout of mud. Rodney wrapped his arms around Sheppard and pushed out and to the side, letting the rope swing them in the opposite direction.

“Pull us up!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

Rodney was afraid of losing that strength before he could get Sheppard to safety. The man was clinging to him like an octopus, but his breathing was labored and Rodney wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be conscious.

There was a tug at the rope, and they began inching upwards, slow but sure. They were only halfway there when Rodney felt his arms start to quiver, a tremor moving through them from the strain of holding Sheppard.

“John. John! Say it again.”

“What?”

“I’m losing my grip. Say it again!”

“Love. You,” Sheppard said, and then he was a limp, dead weight in Rodney’s arms. No matter. The strength surged through him again, along with the swirling mix of emotions, and it was enough to get them back on solid ground.

Reed and Coughlin pulled them up, and Coughlin immediately secured Sheppard as best he could. Rodney lay on his back, gasping and shaking.

“Come, Dr. McKay,” Huang said, hauling him to his feet. “We must get everyone back to Atlantis.”

Maybe it was just his body’s way of dealing with the stress, or maybe it was _Atlantis_ , but Rodney’s vision narrowed and then everything faded very peacefully to black.

*o*o*o*

When Rodney woke up in the infirmary, the synesthesia was gone. He was being hailed as a hero for his efforts in saving Sheppard’s life, though for once he didn’t want the accolades. It had been too close, and if not for the weight of Sheppard’s words they wouldn’t have survived it.

Lorne told anyone who would listen about Rodney’s amazing feat of strength. “It was like he gained the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!” Which, ha ha, very funny. Rodney was asked but he never told anyone what word had triggered that response. He was pretty sure some people knew anyway.

He didn’t need to stay overnight, but he ended up staying anyway, sitting in the chair next to Sheppard’s bed. The man had a broken arm, a fractured collarbone, cracked ribs, and some pretty impressive bruising all along his left side. But he was alive.

“So no more getting turned on by me?” he asked Rodney.

The infirmary lights were dimmed, and they were alone, but Rodney still blushed at the question.

“Not by your name, no.”

Sheppard grinned. They didn’t talk about it again, but they didn’t have to. Rodney kept Sheppard company for the duration of his infirmary stay, and when he was released. They watched movies, played chess, took walks around Atlantis, and when no-one was watching they made out like horny teenagers. Sheppard managed pretty well in spite of his injuries.

There was a lot of speculation about the reason the Ancients would design a device that induced such inconvenient symptoms, and even more speculation about why it all just stopped. Rodney himself wasn’t sure, and he’d locked the orb away with the more dangerous artefacts they’d found thus far, but Sheppard had a theory.

“You needed to get in touch with your feelings. And you did.” 

It was a very touchy-feely notion, ironic considering the source and his inability to express his own feelings verbally unless death was imminent. But the more Rodney thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that Sheppard was right.

Not that he’d ever tell him.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Okay, once again a brief prompt fic turned into something much longer than I had planned. Much thanks to nagi_schwarz for the prompt and the inspiration!


End file.
